


moments

by bail



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-08
Updated: 2011-04-08
Packaged: 2017-10-17 18:20:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/179834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bail/pseuds/bail
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are these moments in your life where you just know that they will be a defining factor for how your future will turn out. AU High School fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	moments

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** David Cook, David Archuleta and et al. belong to themselves. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
>  **A/N:** The story can also be read at my [fic journal](http://bail.livejournal.com/1736.html) over at livejournal. This story was heavily influenced by the last verse of Richard Siken's poem _You Are Jeff_ , which by the way is so amazing and you should all read it.

There are these moments in your life where you just know that they will be a defining factor for how your future will turn out. You wonder, apprehensively and wordlessly, if this is one of them; if this exact moment is going to be one of those you look back on in twenty years time and say, 'that's where everything changed'. Part of you wants it to be, but another part of you is afraid of what that would entail.

It's terrifying and exhilarating all at the same time and as you turn off the headlights and lean back against the black seat that still have that lingering smell of leather clinging to the surface, you turn and look at the boy next to you. He's beautiful, more so than the first time you laid eyes on him in the hallway, wandering about with a schedule clenched tight in his hand, eyes on the floor as he was looking for his locker. Your breath hitches in your throat, your fingers itching to reach out and grab his hand that lies on the seat between you, but you don't. Instead you stretch your arms and wrap your slender fingers around the steering wheel, a perfect ten-and-two position even though you are parked in the middle of nowhere.

The night is dark, the stars blinking dully every now and then, and the moon is barely visible. But all of this is irrelevant, and you don't even turn on the light inside the car – because you don't need to look to be able to see him, you reason – but just stare out of the window, looking into the blackness of the night. The digital clock embedded in the dashboard reads 01:02 AM, and you know that you need to go home soon. After all, it's a school night, and you are kind of surprised that your parents haven't phoned yet. Or his parents, for that matter, which would probably be a more likely scenario considering who his parents are and how protective they are of their kids.

You can feel the blood pumping faster and faster through your veins, and you feel weird, almost as if you have done something terrible. Like maybe robbed a liquor store, for example. Not that you would ever do something like that, because your momma raised you well, but still. Your chest is clenching and your stomach feels upset and you can't eradicate that feeling even though you're trying your goddamned best to do so.

Your hands start to tremble; your knuckles turning white as you tighten your hold on the steering wheel. You want more than anything to confess, to lay out your emotions openly for the world to see. But you don't, so instead you choke down the need to share and turn your attention to the shiny dashboard that still gleams bleakly from when you had polished it earlier, trying to get rid of the smudge of dirt that your younger brother had managed to make within five minutes of being in the car. The smudge is still there, but right now you don't care.

You know that twenty years from now, what happens in high school won't matter. However, it's difficult to reason with society and popularity and friends, and you're kind of afraid to ruin everything. It's difficult to be a teenager; you deliberate, and then smile, because honestly, life is not supposed to be so difficult at seventeen. Life is supposed to be tremendous and full of new experiences and… you shouldn't care about other people's opinions. You know this, your dad taught you to be proud of who you are and stand up for your beliefs. If only it wasn't so fucking hard. Or maybe, just maybe it would be easier if you actually knew what you wanted.

And isn't life just exactly that? Choices, decisions and full of obstacles conjured up especially for you, just so you can have something to overcome. Only, you have never considered something like this to become a problem, never once thought that you would end up in a situation like this, with a beautiful boy sitting so close next to you, yet still so incredible far away.

The silence is deafening, the only sound you can hear is your heart hammering against your chest, your ribs aching with desire and pain. You wonder if he can hear your heartbeat too, or if maybe his heart is doing just the same as yours, pounding away so fast and loud that you're unable to focus on much else.

And then you think screw it, you want this, want him – and just to make sure that you're doing the right thing, your turn completely in your seat, hands leaving the steering wheel in the process and just gaze at him. He blushes in that incredible sweet and innocent way that makes your heart skip a beat. He bites into his lower lip, and your eyes watch mesmerized as he worries the plump flesh. Long dark lashes falls over his cheeks as he looks down, and you don't remember him ever looking so fucking endearing before.

Your mouth opens – words at the tip of your tongue, ready to pour your heart out – when something unanticipated happens. He reaches out and runs his sunkissed fingers over your skin, the hairs on your arm rising as the tips dances over and past them, sending soft tremors of delight down your spine.

It feels like it's all done in slow-motion, as if it takes hours upon hours, and you watch, heart in your throat as the fingers near your hand. And when they finally do reach your hand, your entire body jumps in keenness, and you turn your hand, the inside of your palm turned upwards, calloused hand patiently waiting for the moment where you'll become one. And then it happens, tiny slender fingers curling around yours, intertwining them together against the leather seat of your new car.

You breathe, letting out the air that you weren't even aware that you had been holding in. Your heart leaves your throat, and you swallow as you stare at your hands. His is soft, softer than you had imagined it would be, and it feels amazing.

He looks at you, eyes searching for something, maybe a reaction, and you smile the brightest smile that you can muster at the moment, because you're not sure that words can even describe what you're feeling right now. And it's funny, because you've always been good with words, especially the weird ones that no one really knows but means the same as everyday words do. You've always found them fascinating and opted to use them at any given chance, but as you sit here, holding hands with this beautiful boy who unbeknownst to you at that time, managed to capture your heart back when you bumped into each other – him looking for his locker, and you trying to discover something you didn't even have a name for back then.

As you sit here together, both of you smiling, you realize that this is how it's supposed to be. And that this moment is definitely a defining moment.

He squeezes your hand and you shift a bit closer until you can feel your joint hands against your thigh, and you sit like this until the sun comes up, just holding hands here in your brand new car. And you promise yourself, that when you get home later, you need to thank your parents properly for the gift, because the car is only one day old and you already feel like you can't survive without it.

 _fin._


End file.
